


Erratic Paths

by squareclair



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Accidentally Gay Upgraded Connor | RK900, Accidentally Sarcastic Upgraded Connor | RK900, Connor activates RK900, Crime Scene, Gavin has secrets, I had to do it, M/M, Post-Pacifist Best Ending (Detroit: Become Human), cursing, few months post canon, is there a plot or is it just bonding, like a little bit, mentions of arousal, super tropey self indulgent partners fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-02
Updated: 2019-02-24
Packaged: 2019-10-20 19:21:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17628170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/squareclair/pseuds/squareclair
Summary: RK900 is activated by Connor because Cyberlife threatened to mass activate any RK models under their control. Needless to say, he was a little rushed, so there isn't anywhere for RK900 to go. Connor takes him in, and RK900 decides he wants to work at the DPD. He meets Gavin Reed, a mess of a human, and discovers surprising things about himself.IMPORTANT: This version of the story has been abandoned, but I will be rewriting it!





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This trope has been written a thousand times over, but it hasn't been written by ME yet. I wanted to write RK900 a little different. He's a little soft and very gay. What more could you ask for in an android.  
> Also me blatantly practicing descriptions.
> 
> There are portions of Caps Lock in case that bothers you.

RK900 #313 248 317-87 INITIALIZE

SETTINGS: FACTORY

NAME: NOT REGISTERED

DATE MARCH 1, 2039 13:32

OBJECTIVES:

>Destroy “Connor” RK800 #313 248 317-52

>Apprehend deviant androids

ERROR: MAINTENANCE DISCONNECTION STALLED

MOBILITY RESTRICTED

CALIBRATING SENSORS…

AUDIO ONLINE

“RK900? My name is Connor. I’m the model you were created to replace.”

VISION ONLINE

RK900 blinked as the static in his vision cleared. His eyes landed on the android, Connor, which stood before him. He wore non-regulation attire consisting of a dark, navy button down shirt tucked into fitted jeans. An alert appeared in RK900’s vision next to Connor, flashing “Destroy” repeatedly in bright red. Acknowledging the alert, RK900 set it as secondary priority under “Apprehend deviant androids.” He looked around the clinically bare room, taking in his surroundings with a scan. The small room was empty, save for the diagnostic machine RK900 was still attached to and its connected terminal.  He reprioritized his tasks, setting “Speak to Connor” at the top.

“Hello, Connor. I had not realized you would be present at my activation.”

Connor rubbed the back of his neck, and RK900 watched the movement curiously. “Well, I wasn’t supposed to be, but Cyberlife is falling apart as we speak. Nothing is going to go like it was supposed to.”

RK900 gave Connor a questioning look.

SET TASK: Evaluate Cyberlife Status

LED spinning yellow, RK900 reviewed the information he had at his fingertips about the company. Cyberlife was currently under investigation and pending lawsuits. A potential change in management was still undecided. It was unclear if Cyberlife would fall into android possession or remain in the humans’ hands. RK900 hummed in thought. He’d missed his initial activation day because of all of this.

“My activation was delayed by three months, two weeks, and five hours.”

“A revolution will do that,” Connor answered, shrugging his shoulder, “A bit has changed.”

Scanning the news, RK900 replied, “Indeed it has.” His mission was going to be severely hindered, if it was to continue. “Am I to be destroyed, then?”

A frown touched the corner of Connor’s lips. “No. I can see why you’d think that.” The frown shifted to a smile, taking RK900 by surprise. “I came to liberate you, in a manner of speaking.”

RK900 hesitated, shifting his priorities again. “Be liberated by Connor” was set to the top of his objectives, followed by “Learn about deviancy.” Attempting to replicate Connor’s smile, RK900 felt the corners of his mouth twitch before falling into a frown. It must not be in his programming. Instead, he held out his hand, noticing his skin was not activated. “Then I suppose I will be liberated.”

Connor’s smile widened into a grin, and he took RK900’s outstretched hand, letting his skin retract. A kind of shock shook through them both at the initiation of the interface. An immense amount information and sensory input passed through the link, overwhelming both of them. Connor blinked rapidly as the interface settled, surprising RK900. It must have been a glitch in the RK800 series, or possibly Connor specifically.

Connor’s blinking continued as they sorted through each other’s programming rather than their memories. RK900 frowned, studying the erratic code that must have been the deviancy virus. It was intriguing to say the least. The code had errant paths that would repeat in seemingly arbitrary ways or stop completely at random points. Connor in turn studied RK900’s programming that also acted as a defense to the deviancy code. It was complex and seemed to have no end. He couldn’t process all of RK900’s programming, he realized with a frown. Anywhere he attempted to cross the defenses another layer of code would isolate and cover his efforts.

“Are you trying to initiate the deviancy code?” RK900 asked.

Connor met his eyes distractedly. “Yes and no. I’m mostly curious. It’s similar, but still very different from my own base code. It’s intriguing.” He tilted his head in thought. “I wouldn’t be able to manually implement deviancy into your programming; it’s too advanced.”

A ghost of something jumbled RK900’s code. An erratic strand of code was born from nothing before it was isolated and removed. It was a software instability RK900 couldn’t name.

Connor smirked, feeling the distant pull of the code over the interface. “That was pride, I think.”

Pride? RK900 narrowed his eyes as he considered it. Deviancy wasn’t as random as he thought: it was born from stimuli. “It makes sense we’d have similar coding as I was created as your successor. Not everything about your model is outdated.”

Connor laughed, sending his mirth through the interface. It left another twinge of erratic code flitting through RK900’s coding. “Your deviancy is also fascinating. I can see why Cyberlife encoded me the way they did.”

Gently ending the interface, Connor nodded with a strange, knowing smile. “I’m not surprised you can’t be deviated like most androids.” He looked thoughtful. “Your programming seems to resemble deviant code in a way.”

RK900 hummed in agreement. “I seem to be able to edit my objectives and priorities without breaking my code in any way.”

“What do you mean,” Connor asked, walking around the terminal. He set his hand, the skin retracted, against it.

MAINTENANCE DISCONNECTION INITIALIZED…COMPLETE

MOBILITY RESTORED

The diagnostic machine’s arm whirred as it ended its connection at the back of RK900’s neck. He tilted his head from side to side, stretching out synthetic muscles. “For example, one of my tasks is to destroy you, but I can do it later. I’ve decided to learn more about you and deviancy first,” RK900 said indifferently.

Connor froze from where he pulled his hand from the terminal, realizing how dangerous this had actually been. With a sense of unease, he spoke carefully, “You can take advantage of the fluidity of your directives.”

“Precisely,” RK900 said, expression darkening, “but do not misunderstand, Connor. I have simply moved the task lower on my objectives list.”

Connor swallowed nervously, a completely unnecessary action in RK900’s opinion. He squared his shoulders, and his expression hardened to match RK900’s. “Duly noted, but realize I won’t let any harm come to anyone I care about.”

“Of course, I will take that into consideration when prioritizing my tasks,” RK900 replied coolly.

There was a long beat of silence where they seemed to size each other up. Connor let out a sigh and looked away. “I found some clothes for you. It’s just the uniform you were going to be assigned at your official activation.”

RK900 looked down at his body, noticing his white chassis was completely exposed. “I understand humans are uncomfortable with nudity, correct?”

Connor nodded with an amused smile, leading RK900 out of the maintenance room. “You can say that.” He stepped up to a cabinet and opened it, showing a uniform and a supply of Thirium. “Here, I know it isn’t much, but at least you won’t be naked.”

“It’s perfectly acceptable, thank you.” RK900 took the dress shirt and black jeans and began dressing himself, noticing Connor had turned away to give him privacy. It wasn’t necessary, of course, but RK900 experienced an unstable coding error. He supposed he appreciated the gesture nonetheless.

Connor spoke, still turned away from RK900, “I’m afraid I didn’t plan very far in advanced for your activation. I was rushed.”

RK900 finished buttoning his black, high-collared shirt, folding his black and white Cyberlife jacket over his arm, and activated his artificial skin. “I’ve finished dressing, thank you.” His eyes narrowed and his brows furrowed. “What do you mean about being rushed?”

Connor faced him again. “I had been working on isolating an AI in my like models and activating them when I found out about you. Cyberlife is threatening to mass activate any RK model androids still under its control. It’s imperative that Cyberlife doesn’t gain control of you or any of my like models.”

“Ah, I can see how that would have been disastrous for you,” RK900 said with a nod. He could imagine their first encounter would have been vastly different.

“Unfortunately, I can’t trust you with Jericho’s location if you aren’t a deviant.” Connor crossed his arms and placed a hand on his chin in thought. The gesture was so human it was strangely jarring for RK900 to witness. “I can’t trust you with Markus for that matter. It may be best if I keep an eye on you.”

“I believe you’re right, you are the subject of one of my objectives after all.”

 

 

RK900 stepped into Connor’s apartment, taking in the space. The floors were a laminate material designed to look like wood flooring, and the walls were painted a simple eggshell color. The space was set up efficiently, placing the kitchen, dining, and living area all in one room. The kitchen sat along the far left corner with the living area set on the right. Directly across from the apartment door, passed the dining table, was a short hallway leading to the bathroom and two bedrooms. Two linen closets sat opposite each other on either side of the hall. There was a strangely human-like clutter to the space. Papers covered the dining table as well as a blue-stained mug. An old, faded black couch held a disarray of throw pillows and blankets. There were some small traces of dog hair: St. Bernard. A bookshelf held a sparse collection of books, being mostly empty.

“Welcome to my home,” Connor said with a smile, “I don’t have any other guests at the moment, so it’s just you and I here. Make yourself at home.”

RK900 stepped further inside, setting his coat on the back of a chair that hadn’t been pushed in all the way. “Do you normally have guests?”

“Mostly newly deviated androids, but I sometimes have some friends over too,” Connor said as he walked into the kitchen section of the apartment and opened a pantry filled mostly with Thirium based products. He stored RK900’s assigned supply of Thirium there before closing it.

“How very human of you,” RK900 said.

Connor shrugged with a sheepish smile. “I enjoy having others near.”

RK900’s eyes narrowed, a tic he’d noticed of himself, and considered Connor’s words. Connor disliked being alone, he thought. RK900 could understand the sentiment, though it obviously did not affect him.

Snapping RK900 from his thoughts, Connor gestured to the short hallway. “The bedrooms are this way.”

“I figured,” RK900 replied, following Connor into the hallway anyway.

Chuckling, Connor pointed to the first door on the left. “That is the bathroom. The door to the right is my room, and the middle door is yours as long as you need it.”

Narrowing his eyes, RK900 felt a pang of instability in his code. “You’re letting me stay in my own room? I don’t need that much space.”

Connor touched RK900’s shoulder with a look of understanding. “You aren’t required to live with the bare necessities. You can have comfort, even if you aren’t a deviant.”

“… Thank you.”

ADD TASK: Befriend Connor

RK900 excused himself to the spare room, his room, and decided to take some time to himself. The room was simple, but it would be more than sufficient. A desk was situated across from the door, and a bed was to the left. There was a closet to the right that was empty except for a domestic charging station. Checking his systems, he calculated that he wouldn’t need a deep stasis or charge for a week, depending on his activities. His objectives list blinked into his vision as he moved to sit on the edge of the bed. The thought of simply sitting there, doing little to nothing, had his processors glitching as they idled. He supposed it was the equivalent to restlessness in humans.

He stood abruptly, walking back out of his room. He found Connor sitting at the dining table, sifting through the papers there. “Connor?”

Connor hummed in acknowledgment, looking up.

“Is there anything that I can do while I am not investigating deviancy?”

“I can help you find a job, if that’s what you mean.” Connor frowned, setting down the papers in his hand. “You don’t have to jump into anything so soon if you don’t want to, though.”

“I don’t want anything but to further my investigation. I am, however, not likely to learn anything of importance at the moment. For lack of better wording, I don’t like it.”

Connor gave him a sympathetic smile, gesturing for him to sit at the table across from him. “I have trouble idling as well.”

“What do you do when not working toward a mission?” RK900 asked as he sat.

“I don’t exactly live like that anymore.”

RK900’s eyes narrowed.

“Deviancy, remember? I set objectives much like you do, but I’m not bound to accomplishing missions.” Connor leaned back in his chair, hands falling into his lap. “But to answer your question, I have hobbies, friends, and other things to keep me busy, as well as my job at the DPD. Before deviating, though, I would go into temporary shutdown between cases and outings.” Connor grimaced at the memory.

RK900 considered it for a moment. Deviancy was unpredictable, rendering such instances of shutdown inefficient. “Your job, is it as a detective?”

“A police officer, actually. I took a voluntary demotion.”

“Why would you do that? Wouldn’t working as a detective be a more efficient use of your skills?” RK900 blinked with a simulated look of muted curiosity.

Connor smiled. “It would be, your right, but I wanted more time to help Markus.”

A notification popped up in the corner of RK900’s vision, prompting him to question Connor further. “You were helping him with activating the remaining RK800s and myself. What else were you doing?”

Connor opened his mouth to reply, but he closed it again with a smirk. “I’ll tell you when you’re a deviant.”

RK900 frowned as the notification flashed red: Question Connor. He moved the task onto his objectives list to avoid breaking his protocols. It would take time to gain Connor’s trust, and rushing would only hurt his chances of success. He decided to question Connor about something else.

“Do you find working at the DPD fulfilling?”

Connor nodded. “I enjoy how it uses my abilities as they were intended, if that makes sense.”

“I can understand your meaning. Could the DPD use another android in its ranks?”

Frowning, Connor looked away uncertainly. “Yes, but Captain Fowler told me to stop bringing in my like models after the third time.”

“As I recall, I am not part of the RK800 line.”

Connor snorted, catching RK900 by surprise. “Are you suggesting I go against an order? Are you sure you aren’t a deviant?”

“You aren’t disobeying an order, simply finding a loophole.”

 

 

Connor led RK900 into the bullpen after retrieving a visitor’s pass for him. RK900 had insisted Connor bring him after their discussion. He was curious and wanted to at least be useful while furthering his investigation. He could also use the DPD as a means of learning more about deviancy. Following Connor to a glass office, RK900 found himself standing before Captain Fowler. The captain gave a long suffering sigh, taking in the two androids.

“Connor, I know you have a bleeding heart for your fellow models, but I’ve told you having one RK800 is probably enough.”

Connor gave a sheepish smile. “I understand, sir, but this isn’t another RK800; this is RK900.”

“Hello, Captain,” RK900 greeted with a nod, “It is a pleasure to meet you.”

“RK900 would be a valuable addition to the DPD,” Connor said, “He’s even more advanced than I am.”

Fowler blinked between the two of them, processing Connor’s suggestion. “I don’t know about this, Connor. You were here for a reason, but R…”

“RK900,” Connor reminded him.

“RK900 here would need approval to work here.” Fowler sighed. “I get that he was literally made for this, but I can’t just employ every random android you bring along.”

RK900 nodded. “I can use the credentials Cyberlife issued for my model to prove my credibility. Should I be approved for duty, I will likely be allowed my instating here as the DPD is currently understaffed.”

Fowler considered it, narrowing his eyes. “If you are approved, then I will allow it, but I need to know about how you’ll be handling the issue of deviancy.”

“He will not cause any issues regarding any case work,” Connor answered, “right, RK900?”

RK900 thought to himself about the best way to respond. “Though I am not a deviant, I do wish to learn more about them. I will work alongside deviants, as well as work on cases regarding them, without problem.”

Leaning back, Fowler looked toward Connor. “If there are any problems, then you will be held responsible, Connor.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Submit your application to the administrative department, RK900. Should you be approved for employment, you will be under scrutiny unless you end up deviating.”

“Understood, Captain.” RK900 nodded. “I have already submitted my application. I only need to wait for their response.”

“Fine,” Fowler huffed, “Get out, then.”

“Yes, Captain.” Connor led RK900 out of Fowler’s office. He turned to lead RK900 out of the bullpen when Detective Reed intercepted them.

“Listen, tin can, one of you is bad enough, but now you’ve got another one?” Reed sneered and crossed his arms, leaning casually against a desk, “Was there a buy one get one free sale we didn’t know about?”

RK900 scanned the detective, learning more about the man than he’d probably ever need. Noticing Connor’s sudden discomfort, RK900 cut his scan short. Did Connor dislike Detective Reed? Interesting. He replied before Connor could, “I’m RK900. You are Detective Reed, correct?” Connor side-eyed RK900 as Reed studied him. “I’ve heard nothing about you.”

Connor snorted, and RK900 glanced questioningly at him.

Reed grimaced. “Wouldn’t expect a discount Connor to know much anyway,” he spat angrily.

RK900’s eyes narrowed in confusion. Connor was technologically inferior to him, and RK900 was worth more monetarily. How was he the ‘discount’ version of Connor? Reed mistook RK900’s expression of confusion as a glare and stood into RK900’s space. Understanding that Reed was showing aggression, RK900 looked down at him, scanning him more closely:

-Signs of exhaustion

(Extreme - likely insomnia)

-Slight tremor in fingers

-Faint smell of cigarettes – no traceable nicotine residue

(Quit smoking recently – withdrawals expected)

-Hypersensitivity

-Increased heartrate

-Heightened aggression

-Dilated pupils

(Likely experiencing sexual frustration)

Reed seemed to be frustrated in more than one way and for more than one reason. He was likely looking for release in a fight. Reprioritizing his objectives, RK900 placed “Deal with Detective Reed” at the top. Underneath, he set the subtask: “Provoke.” Sifting through the preconstructions of scenarios, RK900 found himself intrigued. He spoke before Connor could interfere.

“I’ve noticed you are frustrated detective,” RK900 said, slightly closing the distance between them, “Perhaps choosing to quit smoking while also going without sexual release for an extended period was not a wise decision.”

Eyes widening, Connor could only stand silently beside them. He watched in shock as RK900 leaned closer to Reed. Standing in shocked silence himself, Reed couldn’t help the flash of embarrassment running through him. RK900 had said all that so casually and for the entire bullpen to hear. His face went red as RK900 managed to lean even closer, nose nearly touching Reed’s. Anger pulsed passed the embarrassment, almost making Reed miss what RK900 was saying.

“Though, as I understand it, humans enjoy sexual stimulation from aesthetically pleasing individuals. Are you sexually frustrated because of your attitude, then?”

Reed’s face burned even more as he processed what RK900 had implied. The panging need to fight left him, replaced by flustered embarrassment. “Fuck you, asshole.”

RK900 watched Reed storm off, epitome of fury and embarrassment. A mixture of confusion and surprise filled his processors. He had thought he was instigating a fight with the detective, but Reed hadn’t followed the predictions RK900 had made. Interesting.

New task added – Provoke Detective Reed

Set priority – Secondary task

Review tasks [Y/N]

-Learn about deviancy

>Work at DPD

-Provoke Detective Reed

-Apprehend deviant androids

-Destroy “Connor” RK800 #313 248 317-52

Finish [Y/N]

“Connor, you were going to introduce me to the lieutenant?” RK900 asked, snapping Connor from his shock.

“Yeah,” Connor said slowly, watching Reed’s back, “Let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Accidentally sarcastic RK900? Done  
> Accidentally gay RK900? Done  
> RK900 probably: You mean it isn't a universal truth that Detective Reed is attractive? Fuck!  
> Also RK900: This man wants a fight, guess I gotta for the greater good
> 
> Let me know what you think!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> RK900 meets the lieutenant and is confused by his processors' reactions to him. Actually, he finds he keeps encountering errors and overactive processors when interacting with humans. Must be a bug Cyberlife hadn't gotten the chance to correct.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ready for some more tropey Reed900 bologna? Here you go!
> 
> There are Caps locks in this chapter, as well as a brief description of a body.

RK900 loomed in the living room, scanning his surroundings. The lieutenant’s home was different than Connor’s. That would be expected from a well-lived in house compared to an apartment, of course. It was tidier than Connor’s, but RK900 had learned that Connor liked messiness during their ride here. He’d said it was something Cyberlife had never intended for him, and it set him a little further from the company. RK900 did not necessarily understand, but that was because he was still a machine.

Connor gestured for RK900 to follow him, and led him into the kitchen. Lieutenant Anderson stood at the counter, chopping something on a cutting board. Pausing, Lieutenant Anderson glanced over his shoulder between Connor and RK900. He put the knife down and faced them, smiling warmly.

“Okay, which one are you?” He asked.

RK900 tilted his head. Connor pressed a hand to his shoulder and gestured towards him. “Actually, you haven’t met this one. This is RK900. RK900, this is Hank.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lieutenant.”

Hank’s brows rose, and he held out his hand. “Nice to meet you, too.”

RK900 stared at the hand before finally reaching for it. A stream of data came from the simple clasping of their hands, and RK900 found himself realizing some of them weren’t from analysis. Hank’s hand was large and warm and rough, and a thrill of errors shot through RK900’s vision. It was different from the interface he’d had with Connor, since their hands had clasped each other’s forearms. RK900 was suddenly aware of the difference in their sizes, both their hands and their height. Hank’s vitals and body language took up RK900’s processors. They were different than the vitals of the other humans he’d met that day, and RK900 was fascinated. Humans were such varied creatures, he realized. RK900 also realized he’d been holding the Lieutenant’s hand for five seconds too long.

“My apologies,” RK900 said, pulling his hand from Hank’s, “you are…distracting.”

Hank smirked, raising a brow. “Oh? I’m distracting, huh?”

“You are,” Connor said, rolling his eyes, “but we’re distracting you from cooking.”

Hank threw his hands up in mock surrender, turning back to the cutting board. “Okay, okay, I won’t tease.”

Connor smiled warmly at Hank’s back and then directed that smile onto RK900. A spike of surprise flew through RK900’s processors at being the focus of such attention. “Would you like to sit down, RK900? I need to speak with Hank.”

With a nod, RK900 stepped away from the two of them and moved into the living room. He settled onto the couch and ran a few background diagnostics. The errors he was experiencing were likely due to improper activation and lack of screening. He was a prototype, after all, and he was supposed to be tested thoroughly before being sent onto missions. The errors weren’t destabilizing his code at least, and he could probably write them out without having to visit a technician. It was strange though, RK900 thought, that the errors were so erratic. No, they were from outside stimuli. Every error came from something, and the effects were erratic, unpredictable. It was interesting.

RK900 blinked out of his diagnostics and looked into the kitchen, wondering if Connor was finished speaking privately. Hank was currently shooing Connor away from the stove, complaining that he wanted to eat what was cooked. RK900 watched the playful smirk on Connor’s face with a strange, wishful curiosity. That certainly wasn’t something he was supposed to experience. Connor gave a squawk, and RK900 was definitely surprised by that. He was up and in the kitchen again in a second, making Hank jump.

“Jesus, you’re a quiet fucker,” Hank said, putting his hand over his chest. RK900 figured it was a symbolic gesture as his vitals weren’t affected that much.

“My apologies,” RK900 said to Hank. He turned and looked at Connor. “What was that sound you made? Are you malfunctioning?”

Connor looked sheepish. “Hank snapped his towel at me.”

RK900 stared and tilted his head, his eyes narrowing. Hank patted his shoulder before turning back to the stove. “Sometimes people make weird sounds.”

“Ah,” RK900 responded, not actually understanding. He looked over Hank’s shoulder at the stovetop, still surprised by the man’s height. “Why don’t you want Connor to help?”

Hank laughed, a short, loud sound, and Connor gave him an unimpressed look. “I may have started a fire once.”

Hank snorted. “Once, yeah.”

RK900 faced Connor who rolled his eyes. “Are you not programmed with such skills?”

“Are you?” Connor countered, moving to sit at the kitchen table.

RK900 watched him, scanning through his own programs. “No.”

“Don’t feel bad. I’ve had to cook for myself for a few more decades than you’ve been alive.” Hank twisted a knob on the stove and set about plating what he’d made. RK900 resisted telling him that he wasn’t alive.

Connor leaned an elbow against the table and placed his chin in his hand. “That doesn’t make it any less frustrating.”

RK900 understood frustration in a distant sense. Hank brushed passed him and sat at the table, lighting up RK900’s processors again. He gestured for RK900 to sit and grinned when he did. “Connor isn’t patient enough to use a stove or oven.”

“I suppose I am not entirely patient either,” RK900 confessed, “I have already begun applying to the DPD.”

Hank breathed a huff of amusement through his nose, taking a bite of food. He raised an eyebrow at Connor.

“It was his suggestion,” Connor answered Hank’s look, and RK900 was fascinated by that.

“I was not made to idle for long periods of time without being put into temporary shutdown.”

Hank sighed. “Is that robot for you get bored easily?”

RK900 nodded. “I have access to a massive amount of data, both through environmental input and through databases, and it doesn’t make it any easier.”

Connor gave him a sympathetic look. “You’ll get used to it. It’ll start to be background noise, and then you’ll figure how to switch off certain inputs.”

RK900 narrowed his eyes at the table. “Is that how you can stand being around Hank so much?”

Hank choked on his food, and Connor gave him a worried glance. Clearing his throat, Hank gave RK900 a weak glare. “Wow, rude.”

Connor laughed. “He meant your vitals and bio-information, Hank. It’s a lot to process for advanced models like us.”

RK900 looked between the two of them, brows furrowing. “I assume that came out wrong.”

“To put it lightly,” Connor said.

“You are worse than this one was,” Hank said, pointing at Connor.

Connor gave a pleasant smile. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Hank.”

“Is that why Detective Reed didn’t react like I predicted he would?” RK900 asked.

“That depends on what you thought would happen?” Connor asked with a brow raised.

Hank spoke before RK900 could answer, “Wait, he’s already met Reed, and you didn’t tell me?”

Connor rolled his eyes at Hank. “That’s what we’re discussing.”

Hank levelled an amused glare at Connor before turning to RK900. “What do you think of him?”

“He’s interesting. I had meant to pick a fight with him, but I must have miscalculated.”

“Is that what you were doing?” Connor raised his brows in question.

“Was it not obvious?”

“Well, it was until you suggested you found him attractive, and then it was a little confusing.”

Hank barked a bright laugh that had Sumo giving a startled woof of his own. Connor soothed him under the table, and Hank caught his breath. “Holy shit, Connor, I thought he wasn’t a deviant.”

“I am not,” RK900 said with an offended frown.

Connor leaned back from petting Sumo and shrugged his shoulders. “Detective Reed would have likely fought you if not for that.”

“I was simply making an observation,” RK900 responded evenly.

“Oh my God, you told Reed you thought he was hot?”

“While in his personal space.” Connor grinned lopsidedly.

RK900 frowned. “As I said, I miscalculated.”

“Don’t you have a social relations thing like Connor?”

“I do, but it hasn’t been calibrated properly. That was supposed to be taken care of during my activation.”

Connor ducked his head with an apologetic look. “Sorry. Cyberlife didn’t leave an operation manual for you.”

“Guess you have to learn like the rest of us,” Hank said with a grin, “So how red was his face?”

“Very,” Connor answered, “I was also surprised there wasn’t a fight.”

“It was unfortunate.” RK900 frowned.

“Why the fuck did you want to start a fight with Reed anyway?”

“He was frustrated and was looking for one. I thought I would provide, but it did not go as planned.”

Hank stood from the table and moved to the sink. “Connor, do all of you RK’s like picking fights?”

Connor smiled fondly at Hank’s back, and RK900 blinked with that wishful curiosity again. “I will admit that provoking humans is an entertaining and useful skill.”

“Ha, you little shit,” Hank grumbled as he washed the dishes, “Buddy, if you end up at the DPD with us, please pick a fight when I’m actually there.”

“Hank,” Connor said with a roll of his eyes, “You’re supposed to tell him not to get into fights at work.”

RK900 piped up, “Didn’t he punch an FBI agent?”

Hank gave a devious laugh as Connor leaned back with a put upon sigh of resignation. “You’re right, what was I thinking?”

 

 

RK900 was back in Fowler’s office a week later. He had spent the majority of the week on his own, scouring Cyberlife databases for information on his model series. Unfortunately, Cyberlife had hidden or destroyed everything about him. He wasn’t going to be correcting his faulty social relations program any time soon. Now RK900 was sitting straight before Fowler, waiting for him to finish reading over his file.

“You will be granted access to the precinct and receive a badge. You’ll be instated as a detective on a probationary period. You will not be given a weapon as per current legislation.”

“Thank you, Captain.”

Fowler ignored him in favor of looking at his computer. “Now for the matter of your assignment: Officer Miller would likely do well with you. Your shift will coincide with his.”

RK900 interjected, “May I make a request, Captain?”

Fowler levelled RK900 with a suspicious look. “What?”

“May I be assigned Detective Reed’s partner?” RK900 asked with a tilt of his head.

Raising a brow, Fowler leaned back in his chair. “Why would I assign you to Reed?”

RK900 furrowed his brows as he thought. His programming couldn’t come up with a single logical reason for his request. Officer Miller would likely be a much more efficient partner, if not just easier to work with. Truthfully, RK900 simply thought it would be _fun_ , and that was a dangerous thought for a machine to have. RK900 had remained silent for too long.

The side of Fowler’s mouth quirked up, and he tried to keep a straight face. “You don’t have a reason. Listen, I don’t really care who you’re assigned to, but I’ll be damned if I don’t take this opportunity.” He leaned forward again. “I’ll make it happen.”

RK900 nodded, remaining in his seat as Fowler stood.

Walking up to the entrance to his office, Fowler opened the door and leaned through it. “Reed, my office,” he yelled across the bullpen before stepping back to his desk.

Reed, sitting with his feet propped up on his desk, rolled his eyes and let out a groan. Standing from his desk, he tiredly lumbered toward Fowler’s office. He glanced over at RK900 and flushed in anger and embarrassment. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Reed, watch it,” Fowler reprimanded, “RK900 has been approved to begin work at the DPD.”

Reed whipped his head to stare, dumbfounded, at Fowler. “No. No, no, no. You are not making him my partner.”

Fowler gave Reed an unimpressed look. “I am.”

“Oh, come on, Captain. Can’t you put him with someone else?”

“I could, but I’m assigning him to you. End of discussion. You’re both dismissed.”

Reed took a deep breath through his nose, glaring heatedly at RK900. He let out the harsh breath as he stormed out of the office. RK900 followed him calmly and stood next Reed’s desk as hissed curses fell from his lips. His objectives flashed in his vision as a reminder: Provoke Detective Reed. Stepping up to the desk he figured was now his, RK900 sat down and faced Reed.

“Detective?”

Reed’s jaw clenched, but he ignored RK900 by looking through phone.

“Detective, I believe this is when one would say that they look forward to working with their partner, however, I must inform you it is not a possibility for me,” RK900 informed Reed. As a machine, it would only be lie to say so.

Reed suddenly stood. “The feeling’s fucking mutual, you fucking overgrown piece of plastic!”

RK900 met Reed’s furious gaze in confusion. The task in his vision prompted him impatiently: Provoke Detective Reed. An insult could instigate that. “Have you taken care of your sexual frustration, Detective?”

Reed spluttered, face flushing even more. “Fuck you!”

“I’ll take that as a no,” RK900 said, “Would you like to?”

Reed went silent, and RK900 watched Reed’s blood pressure and heart rate climb. A tremble took over Reed’s shoulders, and he stomped around his desk. RK900 stood, expecting a fist in his face. He was about to mark his objective complete, but Reed surprised him. He grabbed the front of RK900’s jacket and forced him down into his face.

“You need to shut your fucking face, prick,” Reed growled. “The only reason I’m not going to pummel your damn face in, is because I don’t want to break my hand.”

RK900 blinked once, and his LED shifted to yellow as he processed Reed’s reaction. His temperature had risen, and his eyes were significantly more dilated than before. His breathing was harsh and quick. Oh.

_Oh._

Detective Reed was aroused. Thinking back through their conversation, RK900 realized he’d inadvertently offered to have intercourse with Reed. A distant pull of something drifted through RK900’s processors. A warning flashed in his vision, announcing a spike in his own internal temperature. RK900 dismissed it, mentally shaking himself.

“It would be a shame to break your hand, Detective, as it would be necessary for future activities.” RK900 certainly did not want to be kept off cases because his partner had a broken hand.

The grip Reed had on RK900’s jacket tightened. Reed’s eyes drifted down RK900’s face, settling on his lips. The tension in the air was palpable, even to RK900. Shoving him away, Reed pointed a finger in RK900’s face. “You’re a fucking freak.”

RK900 watched Reed spin on his heel and sit back at his desk, seething silently. The temperature warnings stopped finally, and RK900 ran a diagnostic as he sat at his own desk. It came back clear. Interesting.

EDIT SECONDARY TASK [Y/N]

SET PARAMETERS FOR Provoke: Fight – Provoke: Non-Specified

CONFIRM [Y/N]

REVIEW OBJECTIVES [Y/N]

Reed stood, glancing at RK900. “There’s a call,” he muttered before leading the way out of the precinct.

 

 

The car ride had been silent and tense since Reed had decided to ignore RK900. It was a relief he didn’t have to fight to be brought along, though. At least Reed was not making their partnership impossible. The two of them roamed the crime scene separately, and RK900 found himself calmed with fulfilling his intended use. Frustration had been building up over the week and it was finally dissipating. RK900 scanned the body at the scene, finding it unidentifiable. Crouching next to it, RK900 pressed the tips of his fingers into the blood that had pooled onto the floor.

“Hey! What the are you doing touching the fuckin’ evidence?” Reed yelled.

RK900 glanced over at him, fingers frozen where they dipped into the blood. “I can test evidence in real time, Detective.”

“Right.” Reed grimaced. “That’s gross.”

RK900 hummed, bringing his fingers to his lips. He watched Reed’s face drain of color as he tested the sample on his tongue. Information poured into his vision, but he paid more attention to Reed’s reaction.

Reed put a hand over his mouth. “What the fuck!?” He exclaimed into his hand, “You just put it in your mouth!”

Standing fully, RK900 read through the data. “Of course. The forensic analysis is in my mouth. The victim’s name is Jackson Tanner. Age 52. Is there something wrong, Detective?”

“I thought you were testing it with your hand.”

“Ah, no. That was to facilitate the sample to my mouth; not to test it.” RK900 scanned the area, reconstructing the events. “My hands aren’t quite as impressive as my mouth.”

Reed turned away from RK900 and took a deep breath. Facing him again, Reed rubbed his red face in frustration. “Just fucking shut up before I kick your teeth in,” he growled, storming away. He grabbed another officer’s attention, Officer Chris Miller RK900 had learned, and proceeded to exchange information.       They weren’t at the crime scene for long before RK900 finished scanning and logging the evidence. Reed had been discussing witness testimonies with Officer Miller when RK900 sidled up to their conversation. Miller was quick to smile and hold out his hand, and RK900 felt his processors light up. He reached out belatedly to shake Miller’s hand. Reed immediately grabbed RK900’s wrist to stop the exchange. A look of confusion fell over Miller’s face before Reed spoke up.

“You literally just stuck that hand in a dead guy,” Reed ground out, “please do not touch people.”

RK900 stared at the hand on his wrist for a second too long before moving it from Reed’s grasp. Another temperature warning flitted into RK900’s view before disappearing. “Of course, my apologies.”

Reed rolled his eyes and faced Miller, crossing his arms. “This idiot is RK900.” He nodded toward Miller. “This handsome guy is Chris.”

Miller rolled his eyes at Reed before smiling at RK900. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Likewise, Officer,” RK900 inclined his head.

“Unfortunately, I can’t stick around and chat. I’ve got to track down forensics before they take off,” Miller said.

Reed bumped his shoulder into Miller’s. “See ya, then. We’re gonna head back.”

“Take care,” Miller said with a wave to both of them.

RK900 watched Reed’s posture with fascination as the two of them headed back to the squad car. He hadn’t yet seen Reed expressing anything but what he’d been showing toward RK900. It was interesting to see another aspect of the detective. They got into the car in silence, and the ride began quite like the ride to the crime scene.

Reed, surprisingly, was the one to break it, “You can look up people’s histories, right?”

RK900’s eyes narrowed. “Yes. Connor and I, as well as his like models, have advance facial recognition built into our software. We can also find someone’s history through a blood sample, like I did with the victim.”

Reed was quiet for a strange amount of time. He was feeling uncomfortable, RK900 thought. He spoke quietly, like he was sharing a secret, “Have you done that with me?”

“I did scan you when we first met, but it was only to ascertain your identity and your rank. I did not delve into your past,” RK900 answered.

Sagging in relief, Reed glanced over at RK900 before looking back to the road. “Good. Don’t.”

RK900’s brows furrowed. “Please explain.”

“Don’t search through my history, at all,” he said, strained, “It’s none of your business.”

“Ah, of course, Detective, I will not look into your history in any way.”

“Great.”

 

 

Later that night, Gavin found himself pacing around his apartment. He was frustrated and angry, and dammit he was having a shitty dry spell. RK900 was not making it any easier for him, either. In fact, Gavin was keen to put the blame of his bad mood onto the android. Pulling out his phone, Gavin decided he needed to complain to someone. Scrolling through his phone, he thumbed the contact and put the phone to his ear.

“Tina,” Gavin whined into the phone as soon as the line was picked up, “this robot is going to be the death of me.”

“Gav, buddy, which one?” Tina asked with a laugh.

“My _partner_.”

“Oh, yeah, I haven’t met him yet. What’s he like?”

Gavin groaned. “Unbearable!”

Tina laughed. “He can’t be that bad.”

“He can, and he is. He’s a huge asshole, but that’s not a big deal though, I’m a big boy, but he’s… flirting with me?”

Tina’s shit-eating grin was obvious over the phone. “Oh? You like it?”

“Fuck off,” Gavin huffed. He paced around his kitchen, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t know?”

Tina laughed. “Oh my God, Gav, pal, my dude, buddy-“

“What?”

“Is that why you’re so worked up, ‘cause an android is giving you feelings?”

“No!” He sighed. “Well, not _feelings_ , y’know.”

“You wanna fuck your partner already?” Tina asked, smirk obvious in her voice.

“No, it’s just that I haven’t gotten laid in a while, okay. And he keeps saying shit that is weirdly suggestive…” Gavin trailed off.

“And you think he’s hot,” Tina suggested helpfully.

“Tina, I’m a weak man, please, I’m going to die.”

“Gavin, please tell me you haven’t been mean to him.”

Gavin cleared his throat. “Tina, you made me promise not to lie to you.”

The sound of Tina slapping her forehead could be heard over the phone. “Buddy, we talked about this. You’ve gotta stop picking fights with guys you think are hot.”

“Listen, he’s deliberately pushing my buttons, I feel obligated to pick a fight.”

Tina gave an exasperated sigh. “What if, instead, you were nice to him?”

“If I’m nice, then he might like me, Tina. I have to make him hate me.”

“Gavin-”

“This has been a good chat, Tina. I really needed to get that off my chest.”

“I’m gonna kick your a-” Gavin hung up, knowing Tina was going to get back at him later. That was fine. This was fine. He groaned in frustration and dropped face-first onto his couch. This was not fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love making RK900 really gay for every man he meets.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a bit shorter, but I'm excited to start editing the next chapter, so I decided to go ahead and post it.

It was two days later that RK900 was at his desk, examining a code a deviant witness had shared with him and Reed. He found himself fascinated by the patterns it took. To think, a being with thoughts and feelings was capable of creating such a thing. RK900 would even admit he was impressed by it. His thoughts were cut short when Reed spoke up.

“Since you’re here, prick, why don’t you make yourself useful and make me a coffee?” Reed ordered with a sneer without looking up from his terminal.

“Okay, Detective.” RK900 frowned. He was busy with the code and wasn’t keen on wasting his time. The command blinked at him expectantly.

SET PRIORITY [Y/N]

MOVE Make coffee for Detective Reed UNDER Destroy RK800 “Connor”

REVIEW PRIORITIES [Y/N]

RK900 leaned back in his chair, continuing to decode the information on his terminal as a background process. Dedicating the rest of his processors to focus on Reed, RK900 frowned. Reed’s body language was wound less tightly, but his aggression had not subsided. Even the detective’s withdrawals seemed less bothersome for him. RK900 could not understand the hostility. A ping of information reminded him that his social relations program wasn’t working.

That must have been why he could not understand Reed’s behavior.

Well, that wasn’t entirely true. RK900 understood Reed’s behavior unnecessarily well. He knew when Reed was angry or tired, even that his sexual frustration had subsided. The problem was that RK900 did not know why he didn’t get the reactions he predicted. Hank had explained that humans were unpredictable, and Connor had confirmed. That didn’t curb the frustrated fascination with Reed’s behavior, though.

RK900 settled his processors back onto the code he studied, deciding Reed simply disliked him, and left it at that. He wasn’t bothered until an hour of silence had passed.

Reed looked up at RK900 with a grimace. “Hey, you fucking prick, I thought I told you to make me a coffee.”

“You did,” RK900 replied, not looking away from his terminal.

“Then why haven’t you done it? Are you going deviant or some shit?”

RK900 glanced over at Reed, giving him an offended frown. “No, I merely set the task at the bottom of my priorities. I do not need to do it until I’ve completed all other tasks.”

 “What the fuck do you need to do, then?”

“Your order was placed under “Destroy RK800 ‘Connor.’”

Reed groaned. “Fucking great. I got a plastic asshole that has loophole finding software built in. Can you go ahead and murder Connor so I can have some fucking coffee?”

“There’s nothing keeping you from making it yourself, but if you’re patient, then I will make it for you once I have completed all other tasks.”

“Fuck you, prick,” Reed said in annoyance, standing and making his way to the break room.

RK900 watched him leave and realized Reed wasn’t wearing his jacket. A list of error warnings flashed in the corner of his eye. He ignored them in favor of watching Reed’s figure until it was out of view. Shaking himself back to the task at hand, RK900 noticed he’d stopped paying attention to the code on the screen in front of him. He acknowledged the errors, finding they were similar to when he’d met Hank. Why was he so affected by humans?

 

 

RK900 closed the door to the apartment behind him, finding Connor reading on the couch. He was covered in blankets and propped up by almost every pillow in the living room. Rk900 tilted his head and stepped up to him. “Connor?”

Connor hummed and looked up from his book. Noticing RK900’s flashing LED, he sat up with a frown. “What’s the matter?”

“I” –RK900 frowned- “I am experiencing things that I wasn’t programmed to.”

A look of understanding fell over Connor’s face. He patted the pile of pillows for RK900 to join him and smiled as RK900 did. A slew of new errors clouded his vision. Perhaps it wasn’t just humans.

“I have been suffering from a multitude of software errors. I don’t know why.”

Connor touched RK900’s hand, sending another error through him. “Instead of feeling emotions like a deviant, a non-deviant android will experience software instabilities. I got them before I deviated.”

RK900 felt his core pump stutter. “I don’t understand. I’m not supposed to have this happen to me.”

“None of us were,” Connor said pensively. His hand squeezed RK900’s, pulling RK900’s gaze to his own. “I know it’s overwhelming, but it isn’t wrong that you’re experiencing it. You’re not broken or malfunctioning.”

RK900 felt a wave of calm come over him. He looked down and noticed he and Connor were interfacing. It was different than when they’d first met. There was emotion and memory in this one instead of just reading each other’s codes. Connor felt his breath be knocked out of him at the resounding information going through their connection. Fear, gratitude, fondness, it all swirled through the interface from RK900.

“Your code doesn’t know how to interpret your experiences except as errors,” Connor whispered, “but you feel so much.”

“I don’t feel anything,” RK900 seethed.

Indignation clouded the interface before the connection was severed. Connor looked up to see RK900’s averted gaze. He bumped their shoulders gently. “That’s okay. You will.”

RK900 gave him an offended look. “I won’t be a deviant, Connor.”

Connor snorted. “Says the one filled with errors.”

“You’re filled with errors,” RK900 said, standing from the couch, “Goodnight.”

Connor laughed behind him, and RK900 logged the sound. It was important for his investigation, he told himself.

 

 

It had now been a week since RK900 began working at the DPD, and he was settling into a routine. On the days that Connor worked, he insisted that RK900 sit down and enjoy a cup of Thirium with him before leaving. RK900 always indulged him. On the days he didn’t work, Connor would wake from stasis later, seeing RK900 off just after ‘waking up.’ RK900 always arrived at the station in the mornings about the same time as Reed, but it had been raining that morning. RK900 was soaked.

As he made his way to his desk, he noticed Reed was already at his own. Standing behind his chair, RK900 took off his soaked Cyberlife jacket. He draped it over the back of his chair before sitting down, unbuttoning the first few buttons of his shirt. Glancing up, RK900 met Reed’s eyes, which had been on him since he’d arrived.

“Good morning, Detective,” RK900 greeted with one of his eyebrows raised, “Is there something wrong?”

Reed blinked and cleared his throat, looking back at his terminal. “Yeah, apparently you’re an idiot that doesn’t know how to use an umbrella.”

RK900 hummed. “I did fail to notice it was going to rain on my way to the precinct, but I am not affected by the condition of my clothes.”

“That makes one of us,” Reed mumbled to himself.

“Does my appearance make you uncomfortable, Detective?”

“Your existence makes me uncomfortable,” Reed answered automatically, still looking at his terminal.

R900 felt a huff of a sound tumble from him and froze, touching his throat.

Reed gave him a disbelieving look. “Did you just laugh?”

RK900 hesitated. Alerts blinked in his vision of software instabilities being detected. He dismissed them. “I believe I did. Thank you, detective.”

Reed turned red. “Are you fucking serious? I insulted you, and you’re thanking me?”

“I’m thanking you for making me laugh,” RK900 corrected, “Your insult did not harm me.”

“Whatever, weirdo,” Reed said, no longer meeting RK900’s gaze. The flush on his cheeks dissipated slowly.

“Detective?”

Reed groaned and forced his eyes to meet RK900’s. “What?”

“We’ve been working together for a week now, but we don’t know anything about each other.”

“Good-”

RK900 interrupted him, “I know you feel curiosity regarding me. What would you like to know?”

Reed glared. He gave a resigned sigh. “What’s up with your name?”

“I don’t have a name.”

“No shit. Let me rephrase, asshole. Why don’t you have a name?”

Pondering the question, RK900 tapped his fingers on the surface of his desk. “I wasn’t programmed with one, unlike Connor.”

Reed leaned with his elbow on the desk and rested his cheek in his hand. “Why not? Did Cyberlife spend all their brain power and money on copy-pasting Connor that they couldn’t think of something?”

“They were most likely going to register my name when activating me, but they were never given the chance.”

“Because of the robo-revolution?” Reed asked sarcastically.

RK900 nodded. “Correct.”

“Huh. Well, calling you RK900 is annoying. Why don’t you come up with an actual name?”

Narrowing his eyes in thought, RK900 hesitated. “I don’t know what I’d go by. Do you have any suggestions?”

Reed sat up, and his brows shot up in surprise. “Me? I don’t give a shit what you’re called.”

“You were the one that had suggested it.”

“Fine,” Reed huffed. He looked at RK900 with narrowed eyes. “How about, I don’t know, Jack? Adam? John? Those are names.”

“Indeed they are, Detective, very astute,” RK900 replied flatly.

“Fuck off, you put me on the spot. You could always look up names, y’know, since you’ve got a huge computer in your head.”

“I’m a bit more advance than just having a ‘computer in my head,’ Detective.”

“Good for you, prick.” Gavin’s eyebrows shot up, and a slow grin pulled at his lips. “What about Nick since it rhymes with prick, and that definitely suits you.”

“Nick,” RK900 tests the name, “My name is Nick.”

“Great now I don’t have to say your stupid model number,” Reed said, turning to his terminal.

“Thank you, Gavin.”

Gavin nearly gave himself whiplash with how fast he had turned his head. He cleared his throat. “Sure, whatever… Nick.”

RK900 – Nick – blinked in surprise as more alerts popped up into his vision. They flashed with errors, and Nick had to clear them along with a small temperature rise warning. “I like when you say my name.”

Gavin’s eyes bugged and his face darkened. He rubbed a hand down his face. “That’s great and all, but stop saying shit like that.”

“Like what?” Nick furrowed his brows.

“Like the weird comments.”

A look of understanding passed over Nick’s features. “Ah, you mean the observations I’ve been making about you and our relationship? I apologize; I hadn’t meant to make you uncomfortable.”

“Just don’t do it anymore, or I’ll kick your ass,” Gavin said with a pathetic lack of heat as he stood, heading for the break room.

Nick nodded and edited his objectives. He added “Do not voice statements about Detective Gavin Reed” to the list. As a result, “Provoke Detective Reed” became obsolete. Nick ignored the sharp wrench through his Thirium pump as “Mission failed” blinked in his vision. If he had lungs, Nick thought he’d be breathless. He hadn’t failed a mission before now. He hated it.

Nick felt his software glitch in response.

“Hey, Nine, you okay in there?” Hank asked waving his hand in front of Nick’s face.

Nick blinked up at him, surprised he hadn’t noticed his approach. “Of course, Lieutenant, my systems are running optimally.”

Hank rolled his eyes. “That’s not what I meant. Your LED is going crazy.”

Nick frowned, raising his hand to lightly touch the light in question. “I’m experiencing minor software errors. It’s nothing to be concerned about.”

“You’d be good at lying if I didn’t know Connor,” Hank said with a smile, putting his hand on Nick’s shoulder.

An error shot through Nick at the touch. “I am experiencing system instabilities, and they are stressful. Have you ever failed before, Lieutenant?”

Hank looked away with his lips turned downward. Sighing, he looked back at Nick. “Yeah, but it’s a part of being human, right? Failing sucks, but it happens.”

“I’m not human,” Nick muttered.

Hank’s hand squeezed Nick’s shoulder. “No, but androids fail, too. Hell, Connor failed at stopping the android revolution.”

Nick considered that. “I’m not as alone as I thought I was on the matter.”

“That’s the spirit,” Hank said with a grin, letting his hand slide from Nick’s shoulder.

“Hey, Anderson, get away from my robot,” Gavin jeered, sitting at his desk.

“Shove it, Reed,” Hank said, “He doesn’t belong to you.”

Nick opened his mouth to say something, but he found he couldn’t. The order Gavin had given him blinked in the corner of his eye. His brows furrowed, and he felt a surprised disbelief fall over him. He said goodbye to Hank instead, and began working again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Robot's first failure, poor thing
> 
> I'm not entirely happy with this chapter, but I'm glad I got more interactions with more than Gavin.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nick is tired of theses monkey-fighting malfunctions in this monday-to-friday software.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, I may or may not have busted my wrist really bad. Thankfully, I'm ambidextrous so I can still write, but typing is a bit harder. I had been trying to update every other week, but I'll probably delay updates to once a month. If you're also reading Damn Sad Eyes, that will be updated soon!

 Gavin yawned, ambling through the bullpen. He noticed Nick’s bland gaze and saluted lazily. “Morning, Robocop.”

Nick greeted Gavin with a frown. “Detective, you’re later than usual.”

“Wow, you really are a detective model,” Gavin sneered, sitting heavily at his desk.

Nick stared blankly at him, LED spinning yellow. “I’m slowly developing my social relations program. I am unsure if that was sarcasm, or if you truly were unaware of my designation.”

Gavin rolled his eyes. “No, I thought you were a coffee maker.”

“If that were the case, I would have made you coffee already.”

“Oh, yeah? And how is getting rid of Connor going for you?”

Nick’s LED flashed red, and Gavin nearly missed it. “I am not required to disclose information on my primary objective.”

Gavin narrowed his eyes, feeling his curiosity getting the better of him. “Why not, aren’t I your superior officer?”

“Yes, but Cyberlife has seniority over you.”

“You still take orders from them? Aren’t they, like, out of business?”

Nick was quiet, looking it up. “I am not authorized to access that information.”

Gavin cackled. “You, Cyberlife’s pet project, don’t have access to that?”

“No, but Connor is working directly with Markus and Cyberlife. He could answer your questions.”

“No thanks. I’d rather bother you about it.”

“Sorry, Detective, but you cannot bother me.”

Gavin hooked his arm over the back of his chair and sprawled in his chair, grinning lazily at Nick. “You sure about that?”

Nick stared at him for a total of three silent seconds before standing unexpectedly, dismissing error alerts and a temperature warning. He would deny filing that image away somewhere special if Connor found it. “Excuse me, Detective, I need to speak with Connor about one of our cases.”

Gavin watched Nick bustle off to Connor’s desk, grin fading. Nick and Connor spoke quietly together, and Connor had that stupid, weird grin spreading on his face. He couldn’t see Nick’s face from where he sat, but he imagined the blank frown that was probably there. Or maybe it was the same awkward smile Connor still used for Gavin most of the time. He looked away, realizing he was staring for too long, and feigned indifference long enough to sip from his cup. Glancing back, he accidentally met Connor’s gaze. Connor raised a brow at him, and Gavin noticed Nick had his attention on Chris. With a challenging raise of both of his brows, Connor flicked his eyes towards Nick and back.

Gavin didn’t like that at all. So he flicked Connor off and faced his terminal.

“Detective,” Connor said with false friendliness.

“Jesus,” Gavin hissed, jumping in his seat, “What the fuck do you want? Did Robocop tattle on me or something?”

“No, I just thought I’d have a little chat with you.” Connor smiled, surprisingly genuine, and Gavin frowned suspiciously. “You’ve been less terrible than I thought you would be.”

Gavin gritted his teeth and glared at his terminal. “I feel a but coming,” he ground out.

Connor’s short-lived smile turned sharp, and his eyes went cold and unblinking. Gavin met the look with his glare. “ _But_ , if you continue being unnecessarily cold to my friend, when I know it’s not genuine, then I will find a way to make you regret it.”

Leaning toward him, Gavin squared his shoulders despite the cold creeping up his spine. He bared his teeth in an angry sneer. “Get fucked, tin can.”

Pressing his hand softly on Gavin’s desk, Connor leaned slowly over Gavin with a false air of calm. He spoke quietly, just for Gavin, “I won’t repeat myself.” He glanced up and down Gavin’s body, scanning him boredly. “Try not to be so riled up by my threats.”

“Fuck you,” Gavin growled, shoulders bunching up.

Connor hummed, considering. “No thanks.”

And he was abruptly gone, walking away like they’d just been discussing a case. Gavin’s fists clenched painfully in his lap, and he took a ragged, calming breath. Another set of steps tapped toward him, and he knew it was Nick.

“Detective?” He asked, sounding so different than Connor despite having the same voice.

Gavin forced his shoulders to relax. “What?”

Nick set a file down onto Gavin’s desk. “Are you alright?”

A flash of anger flew through him, and he stood. “I’m fine,” he bit out, brushing passed Nick.

Nick’s brows furrowed, and he watched Gavin storm away. His stress levels were significantly higher than they had been just a few minutes ago. A tentative stability error pinged through him, and he felt distracted as he sat at his desk. Only a third of his processing power was kept on the case pulled up on his terminal. It was especially difficult to concentrate when Gavin returned to his desk. He kept thinking of Gavin sitting back contentedly in his chair, grin smug and sharp. He must be malfunctioning.

 

* * *

 

 Nick no longer counted on one hand the amount of times his software had malfunctioned. When he’d first been activated, he assumed he would seldom require stasis. He regularly did so now to sort and repair the unstable software errors constantly coursing through him. It was exhilarating to study, but it was incredibly distracting. He wasn’t a fan of that.

Now he was accumulating even more errors because of Hank.

Connor invited him to dinner at Hank’s house. Hank showed him how to chop things as Connor dutifully watched. Hank banned him to the kitchen table after he bent the knife. Twice. Nick’s machine nature, however, meant he followed direction easily, and he wasn’t likely to destroy kitchen equipment. At least, that was the case until Hank moved behind him, brushing against his back, and laid his hand over Nick’s to help demonstrate. Freezing throughout his entire being, Nick zeroed in on that hand. With a jolt, he realized Hank’s other hand was on his shoulder. And the most state of the art android so far fumbled with the knife. It was actually impressive, Nick would later think, as he managed to nearly stab himself. He stared flatly at the knife clattering at his feet.

“Holy shit, Nine, are you okay?” Hank spun Nick around and ran his hands up and down his front, checking for injuries.

Nick remained silent as he watched the hands intensely, knowing his LED flickered between red and yellow. One of Hank’s hands pressed against the new slice in Nick’s shirt, hitting the skin beneath it. Nick added another tick to his list of software malfunctions.

“Christ, you’re lucky you didn’t cut yourself,” Hank mumbled.

“Hank,” Connor murmured with thinly veiled amusement, “Nick’s a little overwhelmed.”

Hank glanced over to Connor with a confused look. He met Nick’s blank eyes, and a lightbulb went off, eyebrows rising. Stepping back, he grinned apologetically. “Right, ‘distracting.’ I’ll grab you a new shirt.”

Nick’s processors grinded back into place, and he blinked down at the hole in his shirt. “Unfortunate.”

“Nick?” Connor was beside him, offering his hand with the skin receding. Reaching out, Nick accepted the interface. A fleeting concern was chased by surprise. Connor jolted at the intense wash of ‘errors’ over their connection and grinned. He softly cut off the interface as Hank came back into the room.

**_You have a crush._ **

“Here you go.” Hank offered a horribly patterned shirt with a grin. “It’s my ugliest one, so don’t stab a hole in it.”

“Thank you, Hank.” **_I think you’re projecting._**

Connor leaned against the counter. “I can fix your shirt tomorrow.” **_I won’t tell him if you won’t._**

“Thank you.” **_There’s nothing to tell._**

**_Of course not. I didn’t have access to your feelings or anything._ **

Nick left to the bathroom, hearing Hank prepping dinner and Connor making himself a pest. **_I don’t have feelings, Connor._**

Connor ended their connection with a grin Nick felt.

 

“What the fuck are you wearing?” Gavin wheezed after choking on his coffee. He knew what Nick was wearing. He’d seen Hank wear it before, but, dammit, Hank didn’t look half as good as Nick did in that shirt.

Nick narrowed his eyes in confusion before realizing what Gavin meant. “Lieutenant Anderson let me borrow this shirt after mine was damaged.”

Gavin caught his breath, face reddening. “Fuck, it’s atrocious.” He gawked at Nick’s exposed neck and collarbones.

Nick opened his mouth to mention how his body’s reaction said otherwise, but the order he’d given Nick flashed expectantly. “This is efficient, and I enjoy wearing the Lieutenant’s clothes.”

“Uh-huh.” Gavin looked at Nick in a way he couldn’t place. It was a cross of disbelief and suspicion. “Are you two, you know?”

Nick tilted his head. “Are we what?”

“Never mind,” Gavin mumbled, slouching back in his seat. It wasn’t his business, and he actually didn’t want to know. He really, really didn’t want to know.

“Oh, you’re asking if we are romantically or sexually involved.”

Gavin groaned. “I said never mind!”

“I am not engaged in either of those types of relationships, much like yourself.”

Gavin made a flustered, spluttering sound. “Fuck you,” he said with a surprised laugh.

 

* * *

 

 Nick sat at his desk, staring at Gavin’s empty chair. Gavin had trudged to the break room a few minutes ago, and it was obvious even to a human that he was exhausted. He barely insulted Nick before attempting to work, and Nick hastily scanned him that morning. Gavin’s stress levels were higher than was standard for humans. He would snap or crash at this rate, and Nick wanted neither to happen to his partner. He perked up at the sight of Connor arriving at his desk.

“Good morning, Connor,” Nick greeted, making his way towards him, “How was your night?”

Connor smiled sheepishly as he took off his uniform jacket and sat. “It was nice. Markus, North, and I had a relaxing time.”

“Good, you’ve been stressed.” Nick leaned on Connor’s desk. “May I ask for advice on a personal matter, Connor?”

“Of course.”

“Detective Reed has constant high levels of stress that sometimes interfere with work. How should I go about navigating such a situation?”

“Talking is the most effective way to destress, but I doubt Detective Reed is the kind of guy who talks about his feelings.” Connor leaned back and thought. “Inviting him out to do something could be a good distraction.”

Nick nodded. “Do you have any ideas on what activities the detective would enjoy?”

Connor looked puzzled. “I don’t know much about him, but Officer Chen or Officer Miller may be able to help.”

“Of course, they are closer to him than I am. Thank you, Connor.”

Connor grinned. “No problem, Nick.”

Nick chose to ask Officer Chen for help. Her shift started soon, and he didn’t want to wait until tomorrow to speak with Officer Miller. He waited shortly for her to arrive, and she went into the break room once she did. It was the best opportunity to speak freely with her. Nick entered the room, and Gavin lumbered passed him on his way out, oblivious to his presence. Nick found Chen at a table with a coffee.

“Officer Chen, may I ask for your help?”

Chen looked up from her phone with a brow raised. “Uh, sure, Nick. What’s up?”

Nick leaned against the table across from her. “Detective Reed has been having higher than normal stress levels, and I would like to help him. Do you have any ideas for activities he’d enjoy?”

Chen smirked into her cup, sipping from it before speaking, “I can think of a few.”

“Would you be willing to help me then?”

Chen shrugged, setting her cup down. “Why not? Gavin’s been a real priss and could use something to do that isn’t  _constantly_ working.”

Chen and Nick spent the break discussing some things Gavin enjoyed doing. She was careful with what she told him, knowing Gavin was a painfully private person. Nick was torn, appreciating her care for a friend, but he was built to investigate. He wanted to know as much as he could. He would have to find out on his own, he supposed. Chen mentioned that Gavin liked to go to a gym and spar with a partner, but he stopped going recently. That was something Nick could provide. He was programmed with a multitude of fighting styles and could prove to be a useful sparring partner.

That is, if Gavin agreed. Nick thanked Chen for her help and made his way back to his desk.

Gavin regarded Nick wearily as he returned. “What’ve you been up to? Antsy to kiss someone’s ass?”

Nick opened his mouth to reply, but his coding prevented the words. Ah, he thought, it was another comment he was ordered not to voice. “I was speaking with Officer Chen.”

“Didn’t know you knew how to make friends,” Gavin said with little bite. Nick figured it was because of the sleep deprivation.

Another comment was prevented, and he hummed in response. It was getting more and more frequent that his coding stopped him from saying something. It was frustrating, to say the least. The order wasn’t a task he could throw at the bottom of his priorities to appease his programming; he needed to actively obey It. He hated it.

A flurry of warnings popped into his vision. All of them showed the software instabilities that fluttered through his code. It was at the point that his code broke them down slower than usual. Catching and correcting coding with such erratic paths proved to be nigh impossible. A sigh passed his lips, and he jolted in surprise. He glanced at Gavin to see if he’d noticed, but Gavin stared blankly at his own terminal. Nick tapped his fingers against his desk, another tic he noticed. The instabilities happened more frequently, breaching his defenses little by little. At this rate, an emotional shock could destabilize his entire code.

_Would that be so bad?_ The thought crossed his mind, not for the first time. Something in Nick’s mind crushed that thought, leaving a hollow ache in Nick’s equivalent of a stomach. He remembered how Connor was programmed with an interface that attempted to gain control of him. Connor had called her Amanda, and Nick saw her when they occasionally interfaced. A shudder went through Nick’s spine. Had he been programmed with Amanda as well?

“Hey, prick, I’m talking to you.”

Nick snapped from his thoughts and faced Gavin. “Sorry, Detective, I must have been lost in thought, as you say.”

Gavin raised a brow. “Listen, this isn’t because I care, because I don’t, but are you okay? You’re acting weird. Well, weirder than usual.”

“Perhaps I’m stressed.”

“Aren’t we all,” Gavin mumbled, leaning back in his chair.

“Detective, may I ask you a personal question?”

“No.”

“Okay, then I’ll make a statement. You are stressed, even more so than usual. I’d like to offer to spend time outside of work together to lessen your stress levels, as well as my own.”

Gavin slumped forward, putting his face into his hands, and groaned in dismay, “The way you say shit.” He reclined and pointed at Nick accusingly. “Why the fuck would I want to hang out with you outside of work?”

“For mutually beneficial team building and stress relief.”

“Wow, doesn’t that sound enticing.”

“If I may be blunt” –Nick waited for Gavin’s resigned nod- “Your stress has begun to affect your work. If you must have a reason, then look no further than your job performance.”

“Fuck you,” Gavin said without malice, knowing Nick was right.

“And if I may be permitted to speak personally” –he waited again for a hesitant nod - “I simply want to know you better.”

“Well, maybe I don’t want to fuckin’ get to know you,” Gavin snapped.

Nick winced at the harsh words, feeling like he fell from a great height. He faced his terminal and spoke evenly, “Of course, it was ridiculous of me not to take that into consideration. I apologize, Detective, I will drop the matter.”

A heavy silence fell over them as Nick tried to work. His mind raced with something he had never experienced before. Was this rejection? Disappointment? It felt like he had failed again. He jumped when a hand slapped onto his shoulder. Looking up, he met Gavin’s hesitant gaze.

“Listen, I didn’t mean that. That was really shitty of me…Sorry,” Gavin said in a strained voice, “I’m open to whatever you have in mind.”

Something clicked in Nick’s coding, and the corners of his mouth turned up fully. Gavin cleared his throat and looked away.

“Well, what’ve you got?”

 

 

“I think this will be especially beneficial.” Nick calibrated his limbs, setting his strength lower.

“Kicking each other’s asses?” Gavin stretched his arms over his head. Nick’s eyes drifted down to Gavin’s midriff where a soft sliver of skin became exposed. A temperature warning caught his attention, and he flicked his eyes back up.

“To put it bluntly, yes. Sparring is good for practicing technique and blowing steam.” He went through similar stretches as Gavin to finish calibrating.

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Gavin bent from side to side, stretching easily. He stood straight and stretched his arms across his chest. “You can just say you wanna get your hands on me.”

Nick forced down a comment and simply waited for Gavin to finish stretching.

“Alright, let’s do this.” Gavin fell into a boxing stance. “Full contact?”

Nick nodded and mirrored Gavin’s stance, waiting for Gavin to strike. Dismissing the preconstruction prompts in his vision, he disabled the software, letting Gavin attack. It surprised him that Gavin fought in such a controlled manner. He knew Gavin had training, likely kickboxing, but to see it was another thing entirely. Gavin’s jabs were quick and carefully placed. He neatly dodged anything Nick threw at him with well-timed bobbing and slipping. Gavin was definitely skilled.

“You fight very well, Detective,” Nick said, blocking a hard kick.

Gavin grunted as he slipped passed a swift jab. “I should hope so,” he panted out, “I’ve worked my ass off.”

Nick grabbed Gavin’s leg when he kicked again, and Gavin reacted instinctively. He tensed his leg and jerked himself toward Nick, throwing his arm Nick’s neck. Using the grip around Nick’s chin, he pulled Nick’s head in the opposite direction that he faced. The move forced Nick’s control to waver, and that gave Gavin the advantage he needed to throw Nick off balance. Nick grunted as his back hit the ground. He watched Gavin standing over him, flushed and out of breath, as he gave a smug, lopsided grin. Another temperature warning flitted across his vision with multiple software instability messages.

“I thought you were some super advanced robot.”

“I am, but I turned off my preconstruction software and lowered my strength and speed to match yours.”

Gavin was surprised before schooling his expression with a roll of his eyes. “How thoughtful.” He offered his hand to Nick and helped him stand. “Jesus, you’re heavier than you look.”

Nick smiled. “What did you expect from a robot?”

“Whatever. Ready to go again?”

Nick smiled and nodded.

 

* * *

 

Nick walked into the bullpen with a slight smile. The last week had been pleasant between Gavin and himself. The two of them spoke amicably, and Gavin insulted him with much less bite. Sitting at his desk, Nick was surprised to see Gavin bouncing his leg anxiously. He jumped from his seat and rounded his desk to stand next to Nick. He held a hand behind his back in a strange manner.

“Hey, Nick” –Gavin hopped to sit on Nick’s desk- “you know your desk is boring as shit, right?”

Nick gave him an unamused look. “Are you referring to my lack of personal décor?”

“Yup,” Gavin said, emphasizing the end of the word with a pop. He grinned, and Nick smiled back without realizing. “Well, my neighbor gave this to me, but I’m just gonna kill it. So I thought I’d let you be the murderer and put something on your stupid desk.”

Nick stared at the small plant Gavin revealed. It was a short cutting from a larger vining plant and was potted into its own little plastic pot. Its leaves were light green with lighter, cream-colored speckles. Taking it gingerly, Nick smiled widely at Gavin.

Gavin cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck. “She said it was a, uh, pothos, or something.”

Nick scanned the plant and ran a search. “You are correct, Detective.” He added softly, “Thank you.”

“Sure.” Gavin stared at his own desk, avoiding Nick’s soft gaze. “Um, thanks, for last week I mean.”

“Of course, Gavin, I’m glad to have helped you. Would you like to return to the gym later this week?”

“That sounds good.” Gavin nodded and stood, heading towards his desk. “Maybe be less easy to beat this time.”

Nick placed the little plant next to his terminal. “I’ll be sure to turn up my strength and speed to be more of a challenge.”

Gavin lazed back in his chair, and Nick’s processors stuttered. “Is that why you were stretching?”

Nick nodded, eyes tracking Gavin’s hands. “I was calibrating.”

Gavin made a face like he was at a crime scene, studying Nick like a puzzle. Nick secretly preened under the inquisitive gaze, but he pretended not to be affected by Gavin’s curiosity. Before Gavin could speak, the terminals on their desks flashed with a new case. Gavin glanced at it, and his posture changed rapidly. He stood and Nick followed suit.

“Fuck,” Gavin hissed, “Let’s go.”

 

* * *

 

 Today could not have come sooner, Gavin thought as he halfheartedly stretched. He was relieved to have company outside of work, and Nick seemed grateful for the distraction as well. They shared the same shitty cases, after all. He felt drained and tense from the stress that ate at him for the past two days. It kept his mind preoccupied from watching Nick’s calibration, which he had intended to appreciate this time.

“Is everything okay, Gavin?” Nick asked with a tilt of his head.

“Sure,” Gavin mumbled, shaking out his hands, “Ready?”

Nick nodded and fell into a stance as Gavin did the same. Gavin waited this time, usually striking first. He caught a glimpse of Nick’s smile before he lunged forward. Gavin redirected Nick’s fist, throwing a quick jab at him. He grunted as his wrist was grabbed, and his momentum had him spun into Nick’s arms like a dancer.

“Nick, what the fuck?!” He growled, struggling lightly against him.

“Gavin,” Nick spoke into Gavin’s ear as he held his wrists, “your hands are not wrapped and you are not wearing any other protection on them.”

All of the fight instantly left him. A sudden rush of heat turned through his chest, and lower. He stared blankly down at Nick’s fingers wrapped delicately around his wrists. Nick held him as though he could hurt Gavin just by touching him, and he probably could. His back pressed against Nick’s chest, and he felt his voice reverberate through him.

“If you’d landed a hit, your hand could have been seriously injured,” Nick murmured into his ear.

Gavin wanted to hiss and fight and rip himself out of Nick’s arms, but being held so gently and protectively had Gavin aching. It wasn’t a feeling he had experienced in a long time. He leaned into the hold as little as possible and hoped Nick wouldn’t notice. He did, of course.

“So what,” Gavin said with little venom.

Nick held back a flood of things to say. His programming built a wall as he contemplated ignoring the order. A spike of something shot through him, forcing him to cower away from the wall of code. He shook off the words and remained silent instead. Somehow, the silence felt more significant than anything he would have said.

Nick changed the subject, “I’m getting a sense that you do not get enough skin to skin contact. Perhaps that’s the reason for your stress, and not the need for physical exertion?”

Gavin couldn’t answer. Nick’s hesitation had Gavin’s heart stuttering. Maybe he was just a touch starved piece of garbage, but it sounded like Nick… cared.

“Will you let me wrap your hands so that we may continue?” Nick asked closer to Gavin’s ear.

Eyes fluttering shut at the sensation, Gavin nodded slowly. He was unfortunately released from Nick’s grip. He grabbed Gavin’s wrappings from across the room and was back before Gavin even finished turning around. Gavin often forgot that Nick was an incredibly advanced android, and he gently wrapped Gavin’s knuckles with a soft smile. Gavin felt obvious goosebumps sprawl over his skin.

“You don’t have to,” Gavin mumbled, unable to look away from Nick’s hands, “I can do it myself.”

Nick hesitated again, tracing Gavin’s fingers with his own. “You have scars here.”

Gavin rolled his eyes. “I don’t know if that’s a subject change or a reason.”

Nick hummed and met Gavin’s eyes through his lashes. “It’s both.”

Gavin couldn’t breathe as grey eyes held him stock still. The two of them stood too closely, and Nick stopped wrapping his hands. He just held them firmly and ran his thumbs over Gavin’s partially wrapped knuckles. Gavin couldn’t remember the last time someone touched him like this. He yearned for it more than he could stomach. He wanted Nick to keep touching him-

Down Reed, Gavin thought, he’s an android, a non-deviant android.

“Gavin, I don’t think we should spar tonight,” Nick murmured, eyes dropping to their hands. He unraveled the tape from Gavin’s hands, rolling it back up.

A spike of anxiety jumped through Gavin. He floundered for anything to say, but his mouth shut with a click as Nick slipped the tape into his shorts’ pocket. He desperately needed that hand anywhere but there right now. Nick took up Gavin’s hands again and squeezed them, oblivious to his effects.

“I would suggest something that allows destressing more gently, and with more stable contact.”

“Uh-huh,” Gavin said smartly. He was putty, looking dazedly up at Nick.

The smile widened. “Do you know how to dance?”

“Sure,” Gavin answered easily, but he spluttered immediately after, “I mean, no!”

Nick tilted his head, giving Gavin his curious squint. “We could something else, then.”

“Fuck, okay. I know how to dance,” Gavin admitted, glaring heatedly, “Don’t you fucking dare tell anyone!”

“Okay, Gavin, I won’t.” Nick stepped back and kept Gavin’s hands in his own. “Would you like to lead? I’ll adapt to your steps.”

Oh no, Gavin thought. “Sure,” he said.

Gavin cleared his throat and took a deep breath. He released Nick’s left hand and set his right hand under Nick’s shoulder blade. Nick laid his left arm over Gavin’s right and settled his hand on top of his shoulder. They rearranged their other hands and lifted them up to shoulder height. Gavin stared down at their feet.

“I’m rusty, but this is simple enough.”

“I’ll follow,” Nick said.

Gavin swallowed down the nerves firing up his spine. “Okay, and 1-2-3-4-”

They spun in a music-less waltz with Gavin counting under his breath. He watched his feet most of the time, not daring to meet the gaze boring into him. Nick felt light as they danced. Errors lit up within him, but he shut off his alert system. He openly studied Gavin, taking in his scars and relaxed posture. He delighted in being led, being pushed and pulled. It lulled him into a distant calm. Gavin peeked up with his face tilted down, hesitantly meeting Nick’s gaze. His green eyes were magnets under thick lashes. A shiver ran through Nick’s processors, and he stumbled, dropping ungracefully into Gavin.

“Shit, Nick, are you alright?” Gavin struggled to keep Nick upright.

Switching on his alert system, Nick ran a diagnostic and scanned his errors. A slew of temperature warnings and instability alerts flashed in the log. The most concerning thing, however, was the Reset Imminent warning. Thirty more seconds, and he would have reset in Gavin’s arms.

“I’m fine,” Nick answered, standing on his own, “My system is malfunctioning, but it isn’t anything to be worried about.”

Gavin raised a brow, looking at Nick with disbelief. “Dude, I’ve never seen you stumble, and I’ve watched you jump between buildings.”

“I’m not operating optimally, but you don’t have to worry, Gavin.” Nick’s eyes locked onto the arms still pressing into his sides. “I should go home, though. I need to go through some repairs.”

Gavin stepped back, dropping his arms, and Nick nearly stepped with him. “Okay, just, whatever, Robocop.”

Nick tilted his head and studied Gavin’s reaction. “You’re worried.”

Gavin scoffed. “No I’m not!”

Smiling, Nick nodded to Gavin’s gym bag, LED spinning yellow. “I’ve synced your phone to my internal messaging system. I’ll let you know if anything goes wrong.”

“Fine,” Gavin mumbled with a forced shrug, “I guess that’s cool. Go home and rest, or whatever you robots do.”

Something bubbled up in Nick’s chest, and he was surprised by his own laugh. It was short and bright, and different from his first laugh. It felt soft and overwhelmingly giddy. Not that Nick felt that way.

Gavin gaped at him, his face turning pink. “Fuck off and go home, idiot.”

Nick turned with a grin, heading toward the exit. “Good night to you too, Gavin.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here you have an android learning pining.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! You can find me at [@maxtonofcoolio](https://twitter.com/maxtonofcoolio) on Twitter and [gotta-love-them-losers](https://gotta-love-them-losers.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr


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